Witching Hour Theif
by Turn Based Tragedy
Summary: It was love at first suicide attempt.
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, I'd have better things to wast my time on then fan fiction. Enjoy, enjoy. 

George sat in the empty room, gazing at the knife in his hand, nefarious thoughts in his mind. Stabbing himself. It wasn't the brave death that Fred had, but it would have to do. He looked around the room he was in, it had no furniture and the dirty, pale yellow wall paper was peeling. A neglected abandon house didn't have the same splendor as Hogwarts, where he would have liked to die, but this was the only place where he could do it uninterrupted.

Alone. That was how he wanted it to happen. He was alone after all, completely alone now that Fred was gone. He didn't want any heros running in and saving him from his death, and he certainly did not want any of his family finding him. They wouldn't know that he was gone from the shop. He didn't talk to them any more...it was too painful, his depression ran too deep.

So it was in this shabby run-down house where his end would come. It was almost a metaphor for him, this house. Once splendid and full of life, but now a crucial element was gone and there was only the dull decay of time to keep it company. He lifted the knife to his heart, where it glinted dangerously with the red light of the receding sun. Then he saw her.

There was a girl sitting in the corner, watching him with a look of good natured patience on her face. He gaped at her, surely there wasn't another human on earth who would ever want to enter this god forsaken house? "I'm going to kill myself," he announced, just to make sure it was his imagination.

"Alright then," She replied placidly, staring at a wall fixture with interest. "Don't let my presence stop you. I'm just a humble thief seeing what I can plunder, please, go about your business."

"I'm going to _kill_ myself," He repeated, a bit incredulous that she had made no attempt to, and didn't make any indication of, trying to stop him. What kind of terrible person was she?

"Power to ya brother," She said raising her fist in a triumphant manner, walking over to the lamp to examine it more closely.

"I'm going to kill myself _now_." He stated, again putting tip of the knife to his chest, staring at her thunderstruck.

"No time like the present!" She said in a tone close to cheerful, removing the fixture from the wall and turning to look at him. Their eyes met, and for a moment their eyes searched each other's depths. Then, they began to laugh.

The knife slashed through the air uselessly as he laughed at the thought of death, the thought that this thief in the twilight wouldn't stop him, and that she was laughing too. They laughed together at failed suicide attempts and things that could never be regained. And, as he laughed, George never felt more understood in his life. She had searched his soul with her gaze.

This woman, this nameless girl who had known him for not more than three minutes was laughing manically with him as though they were old friends. No, better than old friends, lovers, maybe. They clutched at each other for support as they fell to the ground, expressing mirth for the cruelest of things. And somewhere in his mind he was dimly aware of what seemed like his entire family (Harry, Hermione, Fleur, all his nieces and nephews, and Lee Jordan included) came bursting into the shabby room, shouting his name, but he didn't care. He had found something not even Fred could have given him (though, he was not quite sure what), and was laughing now just for the sake of laughing. She was precious to him now.

This is what he'd been looking for, even if he hadn't known it. He realized this as all the people who had ever loved him came rushing through the battered door. Even as they wrestled each other to get the knife out of his limp hand, all he could think about was his witching hour thief and how her blind faith in his resolve had saved him more then all the pleading from his brothers and tears from his mother. As they cried for him to live he laughed, for the fact of his twin's final act had finally occurred to him; Fred had died laughing, and George continued to laugh for the beauty of it.

It slowly dawned on his family that he was not, indeed, going to kill himself, and were subdued into a kind of shock. They stared as the unlikely pair rolled themselves on the dirty floor, trying valiantly not to wet themselves. Where once they had been shouting his name urgently, they were now asking it as if they were afraid.

"Have I introduced you all to my future wife?" George slurred, brushing the tears from his eyes.

"Your...Your wife...dear?" inquired Mrs. Weasly hesitantly.

George laughed again and looked his girl in the eyes once more, both of them grinning madly. "Yeah, but don't ask me her name, she hasn't told me it yet." They gazed at each other, both their eyes sparkling.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox If you don't review, George will kill himself. He told me so. (Please review, I don't want George to die!) TBT-OUT! 


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, so, I decided to make many mores of chapters for this lovely little story. I'm kinda a fraid of disappointing people but...I'll try my best, I guess. I'm going to treat each chapter like it is its own story. I don't know if it's going to feel like it to you all but there you go. My game plan. Please enjoy!

P.s. I don't own any character from Harry Potter, or Harry Potter itself. I am Proud to say, however, that I do own George's witching hour thief.

George Weasly and Amelia Hobbes were to be married on the sixteenth of October, which as coincidence would have it, was the anniversary of their meeting. The bride was to wear a most magnificent pure white dress and, as other women who had married into the Weasly family, aunt Muriel's tiara. The groom had agreed to at least try to wear something nice, but refused to wear the robes his mother picked out for him due to low comfort levels. This, however, was all that could be said of George, and Amelia's wedding, for the future Mrs. Weasly had drowned her Mother-in-law to be's every attempt to plan with detailed instructions on how to hop on one foot.

It wasn't all a total loss for Molly Weasly, however, for she did win one battle; she had managed to convince the insufferable bride to wear a dress, no mean feat. It was the kind of white dress all brides must wear on such an occasion, though, Amelia did not seem to care one way or another. Amelia Hobbes was a difficult sort of bride, as Molly very well knew, and as a result found herself in the sitting room making plans (or at least, trying to make plans) with the girl in question.

"Now Amelia, dear, you'll have to invite someone to the wedding. You must have some family you'd like to come. Friends maybe..." Mrs. Weasly peered desperately at Amelia, she was not cooperating in the least, something George requested of her as a joke, and which she was fulfilling beautifully. She would make a faithful wife one day but right now, it was incredibly bothersome.

Amelia looked at her. "No," she said cheerfully. "My family disowned me _years_ ago. They wouldn't come to my wedding even if I paid them." An ugly look crossed her face, "Not that they need it," she added. Mrs. Molly Weasly knew absolutely nothing about her son's fiance's past. She knew only a sketchy background, which involved Amelia's rich, American family disowning her (reasons unstated), and her some how ending up in Diagon Ally having to live as a thief.

"Well, you must have some friends, dear," Mrs. Weasly pressed on. A grin spread over Amelia's face. It wasn't at all pleasant, and Molly felt that she would prefer the scowl.

"Haven't got any," Amelia said. "I've only got George to keep me company."

"Then where have you been going all these nights?" Exclaimed Mrs. Weasly, she had been so sure it was friends she was visiting. That is, she _hoped_ it was friends. Another nasty smile played across Amelia's face. Molly felt it was best to leave the topic lie.

Amelia Hobbes was impossible, and Mrs. Weasly would have disliked her a great deal, but Amelia was one of those people that, however vulgar or unpleasant they were, you simply had to like them. As she sat and looked at her incoming daughter-in-law, she noticed how very cute and extremely un-dangerous looking she seemed. There was something underneath the persona of natural innocence though, a certain sinister presence that left no doubt in Molly's mind that this girl would do anything at all to keep her new found happiness. It was unnerving. She wondered if George saw it, and then wondered if he'd care. It was at this precise moment that George himself walked into the sitting room, speak of the devil.

"There you are," Mrs. Weasly proclaimed crossly. "I've been wanting to speak to you together about this but somehow I haven't been able to track you both down!" She was going to get to the bottom of this wedding if it was the last this she did.

George slid onto the love seat next to Amelia, and they smirked as if they shared some diabolical private joke, and the entire wedding was going to be at the brunt of it. Mrs. Weasly coughed and they turned to her with looks that on any other faces but theirs, would be of perfect innocence. "What are you planning?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

"Nothing," Said George promptly.

"I don't believe you," Mrs. Weasly hissed at her son. If there was one thing she had learned over the years, it was that the twins were never up to nothing, and one being dead did not make an exception to this rule. The pair of them smiled angelically, but she noticed that Amelia's foot began to tap. Nervous reaction, perhaps? Or mere irritation? It was hard to tell. "If you're planning anything to do with the wedding," At that moment something exploded nearby, knocking Mrs. Weasly off the stool she was perched on. "What was that?" She gasped, picking herself up off the floor.

"Why, that is the sound of nothing," said Amelia. Mrs. Weasly ignored her and ran up the stairs to the room that they were sharing. Bits of something the exact shade of George's dress robes was floating back down to earth. "It...it wasn't us!" exclaimed Amelia at once, and Mrs. Weasly watched as she spluttered to defend them thinking that it was true that having Amelia was nothing like having Fred back, it was more like having Amelia, which was much, much worse.

"What's going on?" yelled Ron bursting into the room after his mother.

"Is someone hurt, I heard an explosion..." Said Hermione, faltering as her eyes rested on the bits of blue cloth falling gracefully through the air. She turned on George and Amelia who were standing away from Mrs. Weasly slightly. "You've blown up your dress robes," she said to George, a look between incredulous disapproving and amusement on her face.

"He's done nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Amelia instantly.

"Yeah, I have." said George grinning.

"It's _three_ days away from your wedding night and decide to _blow up your dress robes?_" Mrs. Weasly spat at her son.

"Damn she's good," said Amelia. Mrs. Weasly sighed, this was going to be a long three days.

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Reviews mean love. Give some or George dies...


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